


They Still Do

by finx



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (everyone is hiding from Steve), (if I ever write a second part there will probably be even more hiding from Steve), F/M, Natasha goes to a Christmas party, and hiding from Steve, there's mistletoe, under duress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:50:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5547992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finx/pseuds/finx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn’t mind Clint yammering on about how Tony’s Christmas parties were legendary, and wondering what drunken fuck-up would end up all over the tabloids this year. “Probably you,” she said, and he flipped her off even as he nodded in sad agreement.</p><p>But when she mentioned, absently, that she wasn’t really doing Christmas this year, Clint immediately texted Tony and announced, like Natasha was supposed to be happy about it, that she was now on the guest list.</p><p>“No,” she said, flat and menacing.</p><p>“Come on, Tasha,” he wheedled. “It’ll be fun!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Still Do

_19:43 20 December_

Natasha thought “it’ll be fun” might be the worst sentence in the English language. She should just stop speaking it and go back to Russian. No one in Russia had fun, not even at Christmas time.

Sure, she’d gone to plenty of SHIELD parties, and she’d even enjoyed herself, but that was then. SHIELD had fallen, and the committee that set up the annual Christmas party turned out to be almost entirely Hydra and was now almost entirely dead, along with nearly everyone Natasha had ever thought it safe to trust. She had had more than enough of sentimental holidays.

Still, she didn’t mind the lights and crooked paper snowflakes all over Clint’s apartment. It felt almost cozy, really, leafing idly through a month-old magazine scrounged from the depths of Clint's couch as the colored lights twinkled overhead. She didn’t mind Clint yammering on about how Tony’s Christmas parties were legendary, and wondering what drunken fuck-up would end up all over the tabloids this year. “Probably you,” she said, and he flipped her off even as he nodded in sad agreement.

But when she mentioned, absently, that she wasn’t really doing Christmas this year, Clint immediately texted Tony and announced, like Natasha was supposed to be happy about it, that she was now on the guest list.

“No,” she said, flat and menacing.

“Come on, Tasha,” he wheedled. “It’ll be fun!”

She put on her best glare, the one that left people feeling lucky to walk away with all their limbs in the right places, but Clint knew her too well. He just laughed and flopped down on the couch next to her with a bowl of cereal.

Clint started rooting for the remote, and Natasha changed tactics. She added a slight hunch to her shoulders, put a little crease in her brow, ducked her head a fraction, and fixed her eyes on the page in front of her. “I’m not going,” she said, and let a touch of vulnerability bleed in.

She knew when Clint turned to look at her, eyes gentle, that she’d overdone it. “Hey,” he said softly. “New leaf, remember? New normal?”

Dammit. Now she had to go.

 

 

_12:27 21 December_

“It’ll be fun,” Maria promised.

“There will be people,” Natasha countered.

“People we know,” Maria pointed out.

“Exactly.”

 

 

_21:11 22 December_

“Clint!” she hollered. “Get your lazy ass out of bed, your mini-me is here!”

Kate looked alarmed. “He’s not really still in bed, is he?”

Lucky bounded over to say hello to Kate, barking ecstatically. Natasha leaned out of the way. “Nah, he’s getting dressed. He can’t pick which tie he wants to wear,” she predicted.

Kate scratched Lucky behind the ears to keep him from licking her face. “Does he even own a tie?” She was getting dog fur all over her silk dress, Natasha noticed with amusement.

Clint emerged, looking harried, still damp from the shower and holding three ties. Kate pointed at one; Clint dumped the other two on the couch and said, “Alright, let’s go!”

Natasha tapped her ears. “Hearing aids,” she reminded him. He swore and ran back to his bedroom. Kate and Natasha rolled their eyes in sync.

Kate had a lint roller in her bag, which she passed over her dress as they went down the stairs to get rid of Lucky’s fur; Natasha was impressed. Kate also drove like a maniac. Despite the heavy traffic, she managed five hairpin turns and three brushes with death that set Natasha’s teeth on edge. They arrived at Stark Tower in nothing flat, and flashed Clint’s Avenger badge to get into the private garage. Natasha turned her face discreetly away from the security guard even though there was no reason to, even though her face was all over the internet, even though he probably knew exactly who she was anyway.

Clint noticed – of course he noticed. He sat forward to put his chin on her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “It’ll be fun.”

 

 

_21:50 22 December_

Natasha stood in the shadow of a potted plant and watched the party from behind her drink. Tony seemed to have invited all of New York to wander endlessly from one room to the next, laughing and schmoozing their way around conversations that formed and dissolved and reformed. Natasha found herself tracking people’s movements, glittering dresses and sharp tuxedos sliding against each other in the familiar amorphous rhythms of a good party. Three couples had already slipped into the discreet little alcoves Tony had set up, and two had gone for the balconies. In late December, that wouldn’t last long, and Natasha was idly counting the minutes before romance gave way to cold.

A group of happily chattering women by the door plunged suddenly into stifled giggles. In another moment Steve appeared in the doorway, sweeping his eyes across the room like a man on a mission.

Natasha found she wasn’t quite ready to smile for him and wish him a merry Christmas – lying to Steve always felt like some sort of betrayal, even when it was something so small as a false smile. She slipped away, sidling through to the next room and into an empty alcove, tucked behind a patterned wooden screen. She watched through the gaps in the lattice, but Steve hadn’t followed her.

“So who are you hiding from?”

Natasha reacted before she had time to think, jabbing back with one elbow while her other hand went for the knife strapped to her leg. Her elbow hit something hard – the skull, judging by the location of the soft yelp that followed. She spun around, knife at the ready and the other hand already swinging in for a jab at the neck, when her brain caught up with her body and she froze.

The man sitting in front of her was unduly relaxed, considering how close Natasha was to stabbing him. He was leaning languidly against the wall, gloved hands held loosely in his lap, but there was tension in his spine and in the set of his arms – he was just as ready for a fight as she was. His hair was dark, cut short and styled carefully; his eyes were pale grey and amused. She didn’t for a moment think he hadn’t noticed the knife in her hand.

“Steve,” she said, slipping the knife back into its sheath. “You?”

The Winter Soldier gave a rueful grin. “Steve.”

The alcove was small enough that their knees were almost bumping together. Natasha felt suddenly awkward, standing so close, only half illuminated by the dappled golden light that came in through the wooden screen. There was a small tapestry on the wall beside her, russet red and tastefully geometric, and something green pinned to the ceiling. Natasha almost snorted out loud when she realized it was mistletoe, hanging between them.

The Winter Soldier gestured at the knife, now safely hidden by the folds of her dress. “Not a fan of parties?”

Natasha shrugged, a little stiffly. “I don’t think we’ve properly met.” She put on a smile, and it came out both sharper and more genuine than she’d intended. “Natasha.”

“Call me James,” he said, and there was an odd hitch to his voice as he said it.

The party was loud, but in here it felt muffled and distant. James – it was far too easy to think of him as James – hadn’t taken his eyes off her this whole time. There was a slight smile tucked in the corner of his lips, and Natasha felt suddenly reckless. She let her teeth split into a grin and reminded herself that awkward was something that happened to other people.

“You look good without the raccoon makeup,” she said, tilting her head and folding her arms. “Pretty hot for a ninety-year-old.”

James’ eyes widened in shock, but then he was matching her grin with one of his own. “Got a better stylist.”

“Don’t tell me Captain America’s taken up cosmetology. _Cosmo_ will have a field day.”

James tipped his head back in a silent laugh. “He learned it from the USO girls. You should’ve seen the look on Peggy’s face when she found out.”

“Why, was she jealous?” Steve had never once told Natasha stories about his old war buddies, but she’d looked them all up anyway.

“Not at first, but then the guys started ragging on them both.” James’ eyes softened, remembering. “Peggy got offended. Said they were insulting her professional pride. So they had a contest.”

A sudden image of Steve in bright red lipstick and lurid blue eyeshadow popped into Natasha’s head, and she cracked up. James’ eyes crinkled in amusement and he shifted in his seat, watching her almost curiously. “Who won?” Natasha asked.

“Peggy, of course. But Falsworth never looked so pretty.”

“Not Steve?”

James shrugged. “Nah, he said he could do it on other people, not himself. Falsworth volunteered. The guys never let him hear the end of it.”

Glass clinked on the other side of the wooden screen, unexpectedly loud. Suddenly Natasha was staring into grey eyes that had never once left her face, this whole time, and her dress felt just a little too tight and her heartbeat just a little too fast.

James’ eyes flicked upward. “They still do mistletoe in the future?”

She looked at him for a long moment, considering. He was very handsome, and he was very close, and he watched her like he wanted to get lost in her.

Natasha let her lips curl into a suggestive smile. “They still do.”

 


End file.
